


To Steal You From Your Grey || Patrick/Mikey || NC-17

by runthegamut (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-20
Updated: 2008-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/runthegamut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey is a prostitute in a Victorian brothel working to pay off his debts.  Patrick is a client unlike the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Steal You From Your Grey || Patrick/Mikey || NC-17

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to relax as the man shoved roughly inside him. Sucking in a breath, he bit his lower lip to keep from whimpering, instead forcing out a moan. He pressed his elbows into the mattress to support himself while, from behind him, the man jerked into him at a frenzied pace.

Mikey preferred this position, being on his hands and knees. It allowed him to hide the expression on his face as well as avoid the mouth of any man who tried to kiss him. Most importantly, he could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t require him to prostitute himself to survive.

He knew there were other men in the brothel that chose this work because they enjoyed it, but Mikey had never experienced pleasure from the act. He was there because he owed a debt that could only be repaid through service. In the nightstand by the bed where he kept his few personal items was a ledger in which he scratched off a mark for every time he performed this act. It had been more than two years and Mikey was not quite halfway finished working the debt off.

Fingertips were pressing into the flesh that stretched over his hip bones as his customer pulled Mikey toward him, his hips snapping faster now. Mikey swayed back and forth, faking another moan as he could tell the man was drawing near. With a strangled noise, the man pushed hard against Mikey, holding himself deep for a moment before abruptly withdrawing.

“Fuck,” he gasped as he climbed off the bed and yanked up the trousers that had pooled around his ankles. “Your ass is tight for a whore.” The man buckled his belt over his wide stomach, lifting his shirt to lazily scratch at his hairy belly. “What’s your name again?” he asked as he reached over to grab his hat from the nightstand.

Mikey’s stomach turned as he lowered himself down to the bed, his stomach lying flat against the mattress. “Mikey,” he replied in a voice so calm it didn’t seem like it was coming from him. He brushed back the long strands of hair that framed his face, hoping the move came off as sultry and masked the disgust he felt. He needed repeat customers.

“Mikey,” the guy said with a curt nod before exiting the bedroom.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Mikey was up from the bed and hurrying over the tub in the corner. The water was tepid, but mostly clean. This was only his second customer of the day.

With a cloth and bar of soap, he worked himself over thoroughly in an attempt to remove all evidence of the encounter. After toweling off, he pulled his ledger from the nightstand and made a thin line next to the neat row of marks. Mikey studied the paper a moment before snapping the ledger shut and returning it to the drawer. He had to change the bedding before the next customer arrived.

***

The door to his room creaked open, rousing Mikey from his sleep. He sat up and blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was. He had dreamt he was standing in a lush field in front of an easel, painting the scene in rich colors. It wasn’t a dream that could come to fruition even after he was free from the brothel, but it didn’t stop him from picturing it often during sleeping and waking hours. Art was the hobby of the nobility and any attempt he might make to earn a living from painting would return him to the same financial crisis that led him to the brothel.

“Mikey!” a gruff voice called from the doorway. “Someone’s here for you.”

Pushing himself up the bed until his back was against the headboard, Mikey quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave a listless stare at the door. He sat there a moment, waiting for someone to appear, until a man stepped into the room; he was stocky and wore his sideburns long, his hair edging toward red.

Mikey leaned forward and regarded the man as he approached, plucking the tweed cap from his head and clutching it to his chest in one hand, his other hand reaching up to smooth down his hair. It was thinning slightly, and he wore it shorn close to his skull. Stopping a few feet from the bed, the man stared at Mikey, taking measured breaths. “I’m Patrick,” he said finally, after clearing his throat.

Mikey studied Patrick, who stood rigid before him. His customers didn’t usually tell him their names. It wasn’t necessary to the transaction, unless they wanted him to call it out during his performance. “Hello, Patrick,” Mikey answered, wondering if Patrick was planning on coming any closer to the bed.

As Patrick made no move toward him, Mikey swung his legs from the bed and stood slowly, arching his back slightly as he pushed himself up, trying to give Patrick a view of his unclothed form. Instead, Patrick’s eyes darted about, looking anywhere but at Mikey as Mikey slowly approached. A slow blush spread across Patrick’s cheeks.

Cocking his head to the side, Mikey attempted to move into Patrick’s line of vision. “Is this your first time?” he wondered.

Patrick snapped his attention to Mikey, his eyes wide before letting out a startled laugh. “Uh, no. No, not my first time. My first time in a brothel, but not my first time,” he replied. He let his eyes dip down over Mikey’s body before meeting his gaze again. “Do you… Do I just get undressed then?” Patrick asked, one hand rubbing up against the grain of his sideburns.

Mikey felt a pang of sympathy for him, as Patrick was clearly nervous about the transaction. Most men who came to him were animalistic about the experience, but he’d seen this kind of hesitancy a few times, usually with virgins. “I can take care of that,” Mikey offered, taking the hat from Patrick’s hand before turning and setting it on the nightstand. When he turned back toward him, Mikey noticed Patrick’s eyes taking in the round curve of his ass.

Mikey stepped back toward Patrick, his hands reaching up to unbutton the collar of Patrick’s shirt as Patrick’s eyes darted away. He wasn’t convinced of Patrick’s claim this wasn’t his first time, but a virgin would be fine with him. He could take control of the situation; Mikey liked being in control.

As he reached the bottom button, Mikey’s hands lingered for a moment before tugging Patrick’s belt free of the buckle. After unfastening the front of Patrick’s pants, Mikey looked up to find Patrick staring at him through lowered eyelids. He pushed the trousers and undergarments down Patrick’s thighs to discover Patrick was aroused.

Without a word, Patrick kicked off his shoes one at a time, his eyes focused on Mikey as he stepped out of his clothes completely. Mikey reached back and grabbed the tube of lubricant from the nightstand before presenting it to Patrick. He climbed onto the bed and assumed position on his hands and knees as he waited for Patrick.

Feeling the bed dip down behind him, Mikey closed his eyes and braced himself. There was nothing for a moment and then one slickened finger pressed inside him, slowly. Mikey’s eyes opened as he raised his head in shock. “What are you doing?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder at Patrick who was twisting his wrist, angling around inside Mikey.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he replied. “Did you want me to stop?” There was a concern underlying Patrick’s voice and Mikey turned back to face the headboard, dumbstruck. The men who came to see him didn’t afford him such kindness, usually working the lube over themselves and then pushing in.

“It’s fine,” Mikey said in a small voice as Patrick withdrew his fingers and then pressed in with two. Mikey felt the stretch, but it wasn’t painful. As Patrick worked the fingers in and out, Mikey lowered his head again, steadying his breathing and trying to relax.

A third finger was added between the first two and Mikey reflexively tensed around them, the stretch now becoming a burn. The movement stopped as Patrick asked, “Are you okay?”

Mikey gave a nod, as he adjusted to the feeling. “I’m fine,” he assured Patrick, and after a moment the movement resumed, three fingers working inside him. Once the burning sensation was gone and Mikey relaxed, Patrick pulled his hand away and Mikey sighed softly as the sudden emptiness.

He felt Patrick rub the head of his cock over the crack of his ass before slowly pushing into Mikey. The full feeling returned and his muscles tightened again. Patrick let out an unsteady breath as he pressed in at a slow, steady rate, opening Mikey up. Once he had entered completely, Patrick paused, taking a deep breath before pulling back out as far as possible without withdrawing. He moved in once again, his pace much slower than what Mikey was accustomed to.

Patrick’s hands held Mikey steady at his hips at first but as he thrust into Mikey in large, controlled movements, his palms began to travel up over Mikey’s hips and back, rubbing him softly, soothingly. Mikey made a loud moaning noise for Patrick’s benefit, when suddenly Patrick pulled out.

Mikey’s eyelids fluttered open as he again looked back to Patrick. “What?” he asked, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Roll over,” Patrick replied in a gentle, but firm voice. He nudged at Mikey’s hips to coax him around.

Mikey opened his mouth to question it, but as Patrick was paying for his services, he simply acquiesced, dropping down to the bed and spreading his legs, his knees drawing up for Patrick. Patrick scooted between Mikey’s thighs, crawling forward with his cock in hand and rubbing it against Mikey’s opening. Leaning forward over Mikey, Patrick slid inside him before dropping his head down to Mikey’s. Mikey turned his face away to avoid Patrick’s lips.

Patrick dragged his lips over the long expanse of skin on the side of Mikey’s neck, his tongue darting out along the way. He kissed his way over Mikey’s throat as he gently rocked into him. As Patrick sucked and nipped at a spot just above his clavicle, Mikey felt the flesh on his arms raise, and he let out a long breath.

Patrick slid a hand up Mikey’s body to the side of his face, pressing against it to urge Mikey to turn toward him. “No,” Mikey choked out, and Patrick immediately moved his hand away.

Pushing himself up onto his haunches, Patrick continued to make small thrusts as he reached down and wrapped his hand around Mikey’s soft dick. He stroked at it with one hand, massaging the head gently with his thumb. Mikey stared up at Patrick who was focusing intently on the movement of his hands, and Mikey furrowed his brow in confusion. His cock began to slowly harden in Patrick’s hand, and as Patrick rubbed his thumb just beneath the head, he felt a warm heaviness in his stomach.

“Patrick,” Mikey tried to say to stop him, but it only came out as a breathless whisper, and Patrick’s grip tightened as Mikey grew in his hand. As if encouraged by the response, Patrick began to thrust in greater movements, increasing his pace. Tilting his hips upward as he leaned back, Mikey felt Patrick brush against a spot inside him that caused him to gasp and tighten around Patrick’s cock, his dick twitching in Patrick’s hand.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groaned, looking down at Mikey as his hand steadily moved over him. His lips were parted as he raised his gaze to Mikey’s face. There was lust in his eyes--Mikey had seen that look before, the look his customers got before they came--but it was softer. “There?” Patrick asked as he brushed over the same spot, and this time Mikey’s hips bucked up in response, a keening noise erupting from his throat.

The heavy feeling in Mikey’s stomach grew as a flush traveled down his neck and chest. His breathing was labored as his eyes fell closed, concentrating on the sensation of Patrick’s hand stroking him, of the fullness inside of him, the intense pleasure that shot through him whenever Patrick’s cock rubbed against him. He felt close, so close, and suddenly he was there, the waves of pleasure coursing through him as his muscles contracted rhythmically around Patrick, spilling over his hand. Mikey’s mouth opened and his eyes squeezed closed as he made a strangled cry.

Patrick was thrusting into him hard and fast now, his pants audible as Mikey let the waves of pleasure continue to wash over him. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Patrick staring down at him and their eyes met for a moment before closed his, grunting as he came inside Mikey. His hips slapped against Mikey’s a half dozen more times, each thrust slower than the last as Patrick finished, before he dropped down on top of Mikey, his face buried in Mikey’s neck.

Mikey laid still, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to Patrick’s breathing, heavy and hot against his neck. They remained like that for a time before Patrick tilted his hips and slowly withdrew from Mikey, but otherwise making no movement to leave. As Patrick’s breathing began to slow, the air started to cool the parts of Mikey’s body Patrick wasn’t covering, causing him to shiver from the sweat built up in the creases of his skin.

“Are you alright?” Patrick asked, raising his head to see Mikey’s face.

Mikey nodded in response, still unable to speak. Patrick laid his head back down, the fingers of one hand gently trailing up and down Mikey’s side. They stayed like that for what seemed like ages before Patrick shifted off of him.

“Can I see you again?” he asked, looking over at Mikey as he let his hand slide over Mikey’s chest.

Mikey nodded again, slowly, as he looked back at Patrick. Patrick studied his face and then nodded in response. Rolling over, he rose from the bed and pulled his clothes back on. “Goodbye, Mikey,” he said at the door before leaving.

Mikey lay in bed for a few minutes, his hand running over his chest before getting up and taking his bath.

***

Life in the brothel was highly regulated. Most of the time, Mikey was confined to his room. On Mondays he was allowed a few hours to go to the market and buy necessities. He was given a token amount of money with which to buy toiletries or get a haircut. He could, of course, spend his money on anything he wished, but the realities of being a prostitute didn’t allow that; he needed to keep himself looking good, needed to be able to clean himself.

That didn’t stop Mikey from browsing the items he couldn’t afford. He would finish his shopping quickly so that he’d have time to run his fingers over fine paper, examine brushes made from hog bristle or sable hair, or handle tubes of oil paint. He allowed himself the fantasy that he could afford these things.

A box of charcoals wasn’t expensive, but as Mikey had figured it, he would have to save weeks to be able to buy it. He lifted the wooden lid and gently ran his finger over one of the sticks, leaving a dark gray smudge on the pad of his fingertip. He didn’t know when he’d be able to afford a sketchbook, but the smaller goal of saving for charcoals kept his mind from the monumental task of paying off his debt.

***

Regardless of the sex act performed or the length of time it took to complete it, the men who frequented the brothel paid one fee; if they wanted a second go, they paid again. What happened in between the handing over of the money to the completion of the act was something Mikey strived to keep short; the less time he had to spend with his clients, the better. Not to mention that the more men Mikey could service in a day, the less number of days he had to remain in the brothel.

Encounters with Patrick weren’t quick. He ran his hands over every inch of Mikey’s body, his palms just grazing the surface as he admired Mikey’s smooth skin. Patrick would have Mikey lay on his stomach and spend precious minutes running his hands over the backs of Mikey’s thighs, following the swell and then the dip down to the backs of his knees. A moment later, Patrick would follow the trail of his hands with his tongue, chasing up them, higher and higher until Mikey would suffocate his moan into the pillow and thrust his hips into the mattress, wanting.

Mikey had tried to hurry him along at first, taking Patrick’s cock into his mouth, his lips tight and mouth hot, and Patrick would card his fingers into Mikey’s hair, his noises soft, breath hitching. Inevitably, he would push Mikey back and turn his focus on him once again. Patrick ignored Mikey’s protestations, refusing to finish without making Mikey come.

Patrick came every few days to visit Mikey over the weeks, and it wasn’t that Mikey didn’t enjoy it. Despite the fight he put up, Mikey would eventually give himself over, each time a little more easily than the last. It was between visits that Mikey hated it, because it made every other encounter he had feel unbearable, as if Patrick had ripped off layers he’d carefully applied over the years to numb himself to this act.

“Fuck,” Mikey hissed, his eyes shutting as he stroked himself, hips bucking up from the bed in small movements. He thought of Patrick’s lips on his jaw, Patrick’s hands running over his body, his cock deep inside him. With a soft cry, he came, body tensing then releasing rhythmically.

Staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, Mikey’s hand slowed to a stop as the pleasurable sensations continued thrumming through his body. His breathing slowed, evening out as he let his arm fall limp by his side. After a time, Mikey pushed himself up from the bed, limbs heavy and slow as he went to clean himself up and tried to push all thoughts of Patrick from his head.

***

“Can I give you something?” Patrick asked one afternoon as he pushed himself up on one side, his head propped up on his hand.

Mikey’s eyelids fluttered open as he turned his head toward Patrick. He tried to swallow the dryness from his throat, still not having recovered from moments earlier when Patrick had left him shaking and gasping and spent. “Wha—How do you mean?” Mikey asked.

Patrick slowly traced Mikey’s collar bone with the pad of his index finger, his eyes following it along. “Can I give you something?” he repeated. “I know the money I pay… most of it probably doesn’t go to you.” Chewing on his lower lip, Patrick raised his eyes to meet Mikey’s.

“They’ll take any money you give me,” he answered quietly, looking away.

Patrick dropped his head to kiss Mikey’s shoulder. “Well,” he started, before moving closer to Mikey’s neck and kissing him again. “What about… I give you something besides money?” He continued his trail of kisses as Mikey’s eyes closed.

“No, they’ll take anything of value,” Mikey whispered, shaking his head.

“So… nothing? What if it was something valuable to you, but not to them?” Patrick kissed up Mikey’s neck, then paused a moment before kissing Mikey’s cheek.

“I don’t know what that would be,” he lied, the words barely forming on his lips.

Patrick held his lips against Mikey’s cheek, his nose brushing against Mikey’s cheekbone. “There’s nothing you enjoy? No present I could give you?” he murmured, his breath hot and damp against Mikey’s skin.

Swallowing again, Mikey tried to speak, his words sticking in his throat. “Art,” he finally managed, opening his eyes and turning to face Patrick whose lips were drifting dangerously close to his own. “I like to draw.”

Mikey pulled away from Patrick’s mouth, but Patrick just stayed in his space, his eyes focused on Mikey’s lips. He gave a slight nod and leaned in to chase Mikey’s lips, but Mikey rolled away abruptly and Patrick kissed the nape of Mikey’s neck instead. “Okay,” was all he said before getting out of bed.

Mikey’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched Patrick dress himself in silence and leave the room.

***

When Patrick returned to the brothel, it was with a wooden box held between his palms. “It’s not much,” he said as he held it out to Mikey. “But I hope you like it.”

Mikey ran his hand over the lid, unhinging the clasp at the end before drawing the box open. Slowly, he ran his finger down the neat rows of charcoal within, the same way he’d done weeks before. “It’s exactly what I wanted,” he replied as soon as he found the words.

After Patrick left an hour later, Mikey pulled the ledger from his nightstand and made another crisp mark before flipping to a clean page. He gingerly pulled a new piece of charcoal from the box and brought it to the paper, sketching in small, light strokes. Mikey tilted his head to the side examining the lines as a picture began to take shape.

It wasn’t until he began to shade along the square jaw line of the figure he was drawing, his hand working furiously, that Mikey noticed what he was doing. Dropping the charcoal, he blinked down at the long sideburn he’d sketched and immediately snapped his ledger shut before tossing it into the drawer.

_This has to stop_ , he told himself, his fingers sliding into his hair as he dropped his head into his hands.

***

Mikey was in a deep sleep and didn’t register the hushed voices emanating from outside his door or the sound of the hard-soled shoes across the floorboards as someone entered his room. It wasn’t until the bed dipped down behind him that he turned and blinked at the light from the dimmed lantern.

“It’s okay,” Patrick’s voice said softly. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to lie next to you.” He dimmed the light from the lantern almost completely and Mikey closed his eyes, rolling back over into the position he’d been.

He vaguely registered the warmth of a body behind him, pressed up against his back and a pair of legs tucked neatly into the space behind his knees and thighs. He could make out Patrick’s murmurs, the feel of Patrick’s warm breath on the back of his neck. He had one arm slipped between Mikey’s head and his pillow, his other arm draped over Mikey’s chest as he ran his hand over the front of Mikey’s nightshirt.

It felt like a dream, a vivid once in which all his senses were involved: the sound and touch and smell of Patrick enveloping him. He sighed contentedly, drifting back to sleep when something stirred inside of him. Mikey was now achingly hard and thrusting his hips forward as he moaned softly. A moment later, he became aware of a hand snaking up underneath his nightshirt and drifting across his cock.

Mikey let out a gasp as the fingers curled around him, grip light as they stroked over him. He made a strangled noise of surprise as he heard Patrick’s voice in his ear, whispering, “Let me take care of you,” and Mikey didn’t know if he meant take care of his arousal or take care of him, but the urge to kiss Patrick overwhelmed him. He knew he couldn’t and he turned his head in the opposite direction, toward his pillow, finding Patrick’s arm there instead.

Mikey sunk his teeth into the pale flesh of Patrick’s bicep, cutting off a moan and giving him something to occupy his mouth. He heard Patrick’s breath hitch and felt Patrick press himself against his ass. Mikey pushed into Patrick’s hand as he swirled his tongue over the bite imprint he’d left on Patrick’s arm, tonguing it and kissing it and nipping it in turns.

Patrick released Mikey from his grip just long enough to push down this long underwear, his cock now pressing against the back of Mikey’s thigh. Patrick guided it between Mikey’s legs, thrusting against the smooth skin of Mikey’s thighs as he reached back around and took Mikey in his grip, tighter now, his strokes faster.

Mikey could feel Patrick’s cock pass beneath his balls, rubbing against them, and the feeling shot deep into his gut. He whimpered, squeezing his legs together to keep Patrick there as Patrick bucked his hips faster against Mikey.

The neck of Mikey’s nightshirt was wide and loose and Patrick nudged it over with his nose to get his mouth against Mikey’s shoulder, his tongue lolling over the skin, both hot and cool at once. Patrick panted in Mikey’s ear as the thrusts came more quickly. “Oh, God, Mikey,” Patrick whispered against the crook of Mikey’s neck, and Mikey felt his stomach bottom out before he was coming, his hips involuntarily jerking against Patrick’s fist.

Patrick held him tight until he was finished, all the while pushing into Mikey’s legs. He finally released his grip on Mikey’s cock, sliding his hand up to take a firm hold of Mikey’s hip as his breath grew more ragged. “Mikey,” he whispered in a strained voice as he pushed forward and held himself there. A few more quick thrusts and Patrick was spent, the tension in his body easing as his arm draped lightly around Mikey again.

They lay silent for a time before Patrick pulled back, yanking his underwear back up with one final kiss to Mikey’s shoulder. Patrick eased on to his back, one arm still pinned beneath Mikey’s neck and Mikey rolled over to burrow into Patrick’s chest, inhaling deeply as he did. He felt safe and protected lying there, and Patrick reached up to stroke his hair.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Patrick said finally. “I couldn’t sleep and I just…” His voice trailed off as he took in a deep breath.

Mikey’s stomach tightened at the thought Patrick would pay to just sleep next to him. “It’s okay,” he replied, raising his face to look at Patrick. Taking it as an invitation, Patrick lowered his head, attempting to kiss Mikey, who turned his head away, whispering, “Please don’t.”

Patrick hesitated a moment and then pulled away. “I’ll let you get back to sleep now,” he said quietly, turning the flame of the lantern higher so he could pull the rest of his clothes back on. He gave Mikey a doleful look before attempting a smile that never reached his eyes. “Goodnight.”

When the door had shut behind Patrick, Mikey rolled over and pressed his face in his pillow.

***

In the months Patrick had been seeing Mikey, the nervous demeanor he’d affected on his first visit had dissipated. This was never more apparent than on the day he strode into Mikey’s room holding a small box. Patrick removed his hat upon entering as he always had before presenting the box to Mikey.

Looking up at Patrick from where he sat on the bed, Mikey was struck by the contrast, remembering his first impression of Patrick, his assumption that he was a virgin. Carefully lifting the lid from the box, Mikey furrowed his brow at the contents. He reached in and pulled out two long silk stockings.

Mikey bit his lip and looked at the soft material spread across the palm of his hand and dangled down to tickle the skin of his bare leg. “You want me to wear this?” he asked slowly, looking back up to Patrick.

“No, no,” Patrick chuckled. “No, these are for something else. Uh. Just lay back on the bed,” he ordered.

Maneuvering into position in the middle of the bed, Mikey eased back onto the mattress as he watched Patrick step out of his shoes and unbutton the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He removed his shirt and picked up the stockings, crawling across the bed until he was next to Mikey’s head. He lifted Mikey’s left arm and looped the stocking around his wrist before making a tight knot.

Mikey winced as the silk pulled tight, pinching his skin. Stretching the fabric until it was taunt, Patrick tied the other end to a slat in the headboard before straddling Mikey’s chest and reaching for his right hand to repeat the process.

Mikey focused on Patrick’s broad chest as Patrick tugged the restraints, making sure there wasn’t too much give. His breathing was shallow and fast, his heart beating faster in anticipation of what was going to happen. Mikey forced his expression to remain impassive, trying to hide the growing alarm he felt.

“Is that too tight?” Patrick wondered as he let go of Mikey’s arms. They remained suspended above the bed, and when Mikey tried to pull his arms down, he discovered that it only increased the pressure on his wrist.

He swallowed, his breath coming fast through his nose as he shook his head. He reminded himself Patrick was paying for this, that he could do whatever he wanted. “S’fine,” Mikey replied.

“Good,” Patrick nodded, scooting back and positioning himself between Mikey’s legs. Leaning forward, he brought his head down and took Mikey’s earlobe into his mouth.

Mikey tensed as his flesh was enveloped in heat, followed a moment later by the sharp scrape of teeth before Patrick’s mouth was gone. He let his eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation as Patrick began kissing down his neck, his lips wet and full.

Pausing to concentrate on one area on the side of Mikey’s throat, Patrick let his hand drift up and down Mikey’s side, goose bumps rising wherever Patrick touched. Mikey curled his fingers closed, twisting to allow Patrick more access to his neck. He knew that if Patrick left a mark, he’d be less desirable to other customers, but he didn’t care. He wanted Patrick’s mark on his skin, wanted to be Patrick’s alone.

With a final nip of his teeth, Patrick pulled off and Mikey couldn’t stop the groan from escaping his lips. His breathing was heavy now as he looked up at Patrick through heavy eyelids, his face and chest flushing for want of him.

Patrick touched his fingertips to Mikey’s chest and slowly moved them downward, fingers fanning in and out . Mikey tensed as Patrick brushed over his nipples, heat shooting into his stomach as his upper body twitched from the contact. Patrick brought his fingers back up and pinched the hardening flesh, causing Mikey to hiss in a breath.

Licking his lips slowly, Patrick lowered his mouth, sucking in the sensitive flesh as his tongue flicked across it. Patrick caught it between his teeth and pulled back, tugging gently as Mikey arched up, trying to follow Patrick’s mouth. When he couldn’t move forward any further, his nipples slipped from Patrick’s teeth, aching hot and dull.

Mikey grunted as he pulled his arms forward, the muscles in his biceps and chest straining. Patrick leaned in again, running his tongue around the other nipple in slow circles before taking it into his mouth at once. Sucking gently at first, Patrick increased the pressure before pulling off, the wet flesh making a popping noise as Patrick released it.

Patrick placed a hand on each of Mikey’s thighs and rubbed over them as he made his way down Mikey’s torso, kissing along his breast bone, down the slope of his abdomen to the flat of his stomach. His hands slid higher, stopping short of touching Mikey’s cock or balls, despite the fact Mikey had spread his legs and was desperately arching up into Patrick’s touch. Patrick simply dropped his hands back down, leaving Mikey to whimper at the near contact.

Mikey could feel Patrick’s breath on the tip of his cock, Patrick’s mouth so close he shivered. Patrick flicked his tongue against the tip once, twice, and then drew his tongue around the head. He sat up an looked at Mikey, his face now flushed a deep red, his hands balled into fists as he pulled against the stockings that held him in place.

“Please?” Mikey whispered, his body going still as his eyes pled for mercy.

Without a word, Patrick gently grasped the base of Mikey’s hard cock and licked up the underside and over the head. He tongued the slit before taking Mikey between his lips and sucking it gently into his mouth. Patrick took only the head in this mouth before pulling back until he almost released it again.

Again, Patrick moved down, taking in part of the shaft now, his tongue running along the underside before moving back one again. He was moving maddeningly slow as Mikey pushed up to try to get Patrick to take more, his legs tensed from the effort.

Patrick raised his head as he sat back, looking down at Mikey whose fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands. “Please,” he mouthed again and when Patrick stroked his thumb along his cock, Mikey threw his head back, humming in frustrating.

Mikey’s arms arched from the strain and his head was swimming with desire. His skin felt like it was on fire, but he could only focus on the unbearable need he felt deep in his gut. “Patrick, please,” he whispered once more, lowering his head to look into Patrick’s eyes.

Patrick brought his head down again and took Mikey into his mouth in a fluid movement, his hand sliding up to meet his lips halfway before his lips chased his hand back down again. He moved his mouth and hand in tandem over Mikey, his free hand reaching up to gently cup Mikey’s balls, applying slight pressure to rub between them.

Mikey held himself up from the mattress, his hips swinging slightly up to meet Patrick’s lips each time, his stomach tensing as the heat built in his gut. He could hear his own panting loud in his ears, and when Patrick slid his hand back past his balls and stroked over his entrance, Mikey was embarrassed by the high keening noise he made.

Patrick pulled away from Mikey abruptly, his lips red and swollen and Mikey wanted to kiss him so badly he craned his neck forward before jerking against his restraints, his shoulders pulled back in an awkward angle. He let out a sob at the ache of his muscles, the frustration of being abandoned so close to the edge, the frustration of wanting Patrick this way when he knew he shouldn’t.

“Patrick, please,” he hissed through gritted teeth, desperately yanking against the stockings one more time.

“Please what?” Patrick asked calmly as he studied Mikey’s face. “What do you want?”

Mikey felt dizzy and hot and too tired to hide it anymore. “You,” he said in a breathy voice. “I want you.”

Patrick swiftly yanked his belt buckle undone, sliding his pants off. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing the lube, before settling back between Mikey’s legs. Rubbing a generous amount over himself, Patrick trailed two fingertips down to the crack of Mikey’s ass before pressing them into Mikey. He twisted his wrist as he worked his fingers in and out, allowing Mikey time to stretch and accommodate him.

Once Mikey’s muscles were loose enough, Patrick added a third finger. Mikey sucked in a sharp breath and tensed momentarily before forcing himself to relax. The sensation of being filled caused Mikey’s cock to jerk against his stomach and Patrick quickly withdrew his hand to push up against Mikey’s ass. Mikey drew up his legs as Patrick pressed inside him, sweat beading along Patrick’s hairline.

Patrick pushed Mikey’s leg up with one hand, clutching it with to balance himself on his knees as he back took Mikey in hand, stroking over him with his lubricated palm. His lips were parted as looked down at Mikey with eyes dark and needy, sliding himself in and out in controlled thrusts.

“Closer,” Mikey choked out as he tried to lean forward once more. Patrick released his grip on Mikey’s leg and brought his hand to the bed, lowering himself until their chests almost touched. As Patrick continued to stroke Mikey, he jerked his hips into him at a frenzied speed.

Patrick kept his eyes locked on Mikey’s as he slowly brought his head down. His eyes fell closed as his lips met Mikey’s, and Mikey moaned at finally having the contact he so desperately wanted. Lips parting, Mikey pressed his tongue against Patrick’s, wanting more. Patrick opened his mouth and Mikey immediately slid his tongue inside, wet and hot and soft against Patrick’s.

Mikey twirled his tongue around Patrick’s as heat rushed to his stomach, as pleasurable sensations overwhelmed him. With a whimper, Mikey spilled over Patrick’s hand, his body tensing and releasing in turn. A moment later, Patrick followed suit as Mikey contracted around him.

Patrick collapsed against Mikey, their chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath. As Patrick withdrew from Mikey, he pulled back to expose a thin sheen of sweat having formed on their skin.

Noticing Mikey’s hands still bound above his head, Patrick scooted forward and untied his wrists. Mikey sighed as his muscles relaxed once he was released. He rubbed the red marks imprinted in his wrists before Patrick grasped his arm, gently kissing the pulse point.

Mikey cupped Patrick’s face and kissed him light on the lips, his eyes opening as he pulled back. He allowed Patrick to pull him into an embrace.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” Patrick said at last, his face buried in Mikey’s hair as his hand gently trails up and down Mikey’s back.

Mikey shook his head slightly, eyes falling closed. “No, I’m fine,” he assured Patrick. He took in deep breaths, willing his heart to stop pounding in his ribcage. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this way,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s chest.

Patrick’s hand stilled on Mikey’s back as he remained silent for a moment. “Makes you feel how?” he asked.

Shrugging slightly, Mikey sighed. “Good? I don’t usually enjoy… this.” His breathing evened out, the fatigue settling into his bones. Mikey yawned, shifting his weight into a more comfortable position. “Kinda hate it, actually.”

“Really?” Patrick replied, the surprise evident in his voice. He paused before asking more quietly, “Why do you do this then?”

“Owe money,” Mikey answered, as he slid his arm across Patrick’s waist, fingers curling against Patrick’s side. “I owe a lot of money. Can’t pay it back so I have to work it off.” His limbs felt heavy as he listened to Patrick’s heartbeat.

Patrick ran his hand over Mikey’s back again, fingers brushing soft against his skin. “How much do you owe?” he wondered, his voice measured.

“Dunno,” Mikey mumbled. “Lot. I’ve got ‘bout half paid off. Probably be here another two years,” he sighed. “I keep track in a journal I keep over…” He waved his hand in the direction of the nightstand as his words trailed off.

Patrick nodded as he began to gently rub Mikey’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Just rest.”

***

Mikey awoke, grimacing as he moved his arm, the muscles aching more after having a chance to rest. “Fuck,” he said quietly as he tried to recall why they hurt. The memories quickly flooded him and his stomach bottomed out. He pushed himself up to a seated position and glanced around the room, looking for Patrick.

Easing back down to the mattress, Mikey realized he was alone, and the emptiness he felt overwhelmed him.

***

Mikey told himself that he wasn’t disappointed every time his door opened that day and it wasn’t Patrick who entered. By the next day, he didn’t even try to hide his devastation, staring blankly at every man who came to call, unable to make any pretense of enjoying the encounters.

Three days after Patrick’s last visit, Mikey couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. He cocooned himself in a blanket and laid face down on the bed, not bothering to look up as someone finally entered the room. When a hand reached out and ran up his back, Mikey pulled away from the touch, his stomach turning at the thought of yet another man’s hands on his body.

“Mikey?” Patrick asked, his voice filled with worry. “Are you alright?”

Mikey twisted around to stare at Patrick, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “Where did you go?” he asked, voice cracking as he pushed himself into a seated position. “Where have you been?”

Patrick pressed his lips together as he watched Mikey, before reaching out to brush the hair from his eyes. He paused a moment before asking, “What would you do if you were finally free of your debt? What would you want?”

Mikey furrowed his brow as he considered the question, focusing on the wall over Patrick’s shoulder. “I dunno. A place to live, nothing fancy.” Looking down, he chewed on his lower lip. “Someone to be happy with,” he added quietly.

Patrick started to reach out for Mikey, but pulled his hand back before he reached Mikey’s knee. “And what if you had more money than you could ever dream of? What would you want then?”

Chuckling softly, Mikey looked up at the ceiling. “I guess I’d buy an estate in the country,” he said with a grin. “Paint landscapes or something.” His grin faded into a sincere smile as his eyes met Patrick’s. “And I’d bring you to live with me.”

Patrick drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have something I need to tell you,” he said, rubbing his hands over his thighs nervously, his eyes downcast.

“Okay,” Mikey answered, his stomach twisting in anticipation of what Patrick would say to him.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you. The first time I was here? I came here looking for you,” Patrick explained.

Mikey gave Patrick a quizzical look, opening his mouth to say something, but Patrick cut in. “I saw you in the market. A few times, actually. So I had you followed,” he admitted, his voice growing quieter with each word.

“I learned your name and that you worked here, so I decided to see you. But then…” Patrick glanced up at Mikey, the trepidation apparent on his face. “I developed feeling s for you,” he admitted. “I don’t want to share you with other men. I don’t want you to be here anymore, Mikey.

Sucking in a breath, Mikey reached out and took Patrick’s hand. “I don’t want to be here, either,” Mikey answered. “I want to be with you. But I can’t, I have to—“

Patrick leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mikey’s mouth, stopping him mid-thought. As he pulled back, Patrick gave Mikey’s hand a squeeze. “There’s more,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

“What do you mean?” Mikey asked, obviously confused.

“I actually have a lot of money,” Patrick confessed. “I own land, a lot of land, and I’ve spent the last days negotiating for your release.”

Mikey blinked at Patrick, his mouth hanging slightly opened as he tried to process what Patrick was telling him.

“Your debt is paid, Mikey,” Patrick clarified. “You’re free to leave here go wherever you want. Do whatever you want.” Reaching forward, Patrick caressed the side of Mikey’s face looking at him with soft eyes. “Although, if you’re interested, I have a country estate surrounded by beautiful landscapes that are just begging to be painted.”

Mikey turned his head away and brought his hand up to his forehead, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. When Patrick pulled his hand away, Mikey glanced back, tears streaking his cheeks, before collapsing into Patrick’s arms.

***

The sun was high and bright in the afternoon sky and Mikey had to squint at the glare from the reflecting pool as he looked up the expansive lawn toward the manor. He brought his brush up, tilting his head to one side before making a definitive mark on the canvas, feather-light strokes forming the wisps of clouds in the sky.

“It’s perfect,” Patrick observed, his chin resting on Mikey’s shoulder as he wrapped one arm around Mikey’s waist, holding him close.

Mikey brought his brush down to his palette, dotting the bristles with paint. Turning his head, his lips brushed across Patrick’s as his eyes closed. “It is,” he whispered as he eased against Patrick. “It is.”  



End file.
